


molting season

by ceooftrenchcoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Rowena MacLeod, M/M, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Sickfic, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-11-22 11:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20873579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceooftrenchcoat/pseuds/ceooftrenchcoat
Summary: am,,,, tire d.





	molting season

**Author's Note:**

> am,,,, tire d.

No. Castiel doesn't get sick. His wings don't ache, and he isn't huddled into a mound of blankets. He doesn't sit on the chair ranting on about how he "shouldn't be getting sick" and how he "does not understand, how am I feeling unwell?" He is an Angel of the Lord, a fierce warrior, and an even better soldier. He has led millions into battle against the enemy, and he most certainly does not get sick. 

"Yep, you're sick." declared Sam. 

"How's he gettin' sick? Thought his angel immune system was all 'hardcore parkour'." Dean asked, getting up from his seat at the map table. He walked over toward a shivering Castiel and put his hand on Cas' burning hot forehead.

"Dude, he's burning up! What should we do? I don't suppose they taught Angel Health 101 at Stanford did they?"

"I'll call around, see what I can find." said Sam, ignoring Dean's attempt at a joke. "In the meantime, I think you should get him into a bed, and keep the blankets off of him." Sam walked over to the library and started searching through his contacts, all neatly ordered into a notebook. Cas isn't accepted by the angels, and Crowley- he almost forgot about Crowley. Crowley's been dead for a little over 2 months now. It's a shame because when they didn't need him he was there, but always missing when he was of use. He would have helped Cas faster than you could say 'Hello boys.' He had always taken a liking to _"the choir boy," _but Sam brushed it off as a he-helped-me-open-purgatory-for-power-now-im-in-debt,-Moose.

Bobby (other universe) was out, but didn't care for angels much. Of course he had taken a liking for Castiel and Jack, but he didn't know anything about angels except how to kill 'em. Charlie (also other universe) would probably help, but she was on a hunt with Mary down in Louisiana. Apparently just a simple vamp case, but probably a girls night out too. He didn't want to interrupt them, because it wasn't every day a hunter found happiness. 

He flipped through the book, sighing frequently as he saw old names. Perhaps they should be crossed out. As Sam neared the last few pages of the book, he heard water running in one of the bunkers bathrooms. He was always happy to see Dean and Castiel caring for each other. Any normal person would feel left out at the lack of attention they got from the two, but then, Sam figured he wasn't a normal person. It was always quite the sight to see, Dean and Cas. Sometimes Sam just wanted to lock them in a room with a note about how they need to talk things out, or to push their heads together when they stared. Sam just couldn't bring himself to do it, due to Dean's internal hatred for himself. Besides, maybe if they were together, Dean would push away, because he was "toxic" and didn't want to "poison" Cas. 

Sam was getting off track. He needed to find someone who knew basic wing anatomy, would help, and knew what was happening. Dean was right, Cas' angel immune system was supposed to be perfect, and Castiel took great care of his vessel, so Sam saw no reason he should be getting sick. Gabriel was dead, and Lucifer had it out for Castiel, (actually Lucifer has it out for everyone) so no help in the Archangel arena. God was gone with Amara, and he hasn't been back, and Jack was visiting with Jody, meeting the Wayward Sisters, and Sam couldn't bother Jack with bad(???) news of his father. Sometimes, Sam hated how empathetic he was.

There was no one. No one could help them. 

He sat back down rubbing his temples, and finally hearing the water shut off. 

Then it hit him. 

No, literally hit him. Dean had thrown a book at Sam.

"Dude," Sam started, sounding exasperated.

"Sammy just read it okay? The little dude is sick and he said this might help." Dean retorted. "Now I'm going to get a beer, because I know that Cas can wash himself in the bath."

Sam gave a nod to Dean and looked down at the ground. He picked up the leather-bound book, and examined it. Opening the first page, Sam was instantly intrigued by the drawings he saw. They were of wings, all different sizes and kinds, and the shading of them told him they were different colors too. He continued to flip through the first few pages, that noted the different parts of wings, and how they should be cared for daily, and in extreme temperatures. Then Sam found it. He found what they were looking for.

Molting season.

He re-read the page over and over again, suddenly remembering a file in one of the MOL storage rooms. The book in one hand, Sam ran to storage room 23, and slowed down when he opened the door and walked in. Watching where he was walking, Sam read the page one last time.

_October 10th, 1946_

_Case File: 307_

_Other Known/ Similar Incidents Recorded: None_

_A species we have only encountered once before had "flown" as they called it, into this bunker. Going by the name, "Hadraniel" this 'person' looked terribly pale and was bleeding from the back, blood dripping all over the floor. As we have handled care for other species, we took it in our duty to attend to the needs of this species. We (two other Legacies and I) ran wet rags down the back of Hadraniel, tempted to ask questions, but did not want to upset them. After all, we had to record this astounding sight. After bandaging the wounds, we offered multiple human necessities, but the individual denied every offer of food, water, and sleep. After checking the pulse (which we could not find) my team came to the conclusion of this individual being some mutant (or zombie in relative terms) to which Hadraniel responded to, by saying "Humanity has never been more opposed to reality." _

_My men and I asked if the being was content with us asking questions. Hadraniel responded with a simple "yes."_

So that's where Sam was now, in front of a stack of neatly organized records. He flipped through and found record 307, and went back to the library. Setting down the record, Sam set out to find the record player. After searching in a few cabinets in the map room, he found it and began setting it up. He was almost finished when Dean walked out from the bedroom wing of the bunker, and into the map room.

"A record player Sam? Might as well read hieroglyphics." said Dean, walking toward Sam.

"So get this," Sam started as he handed Dean the file. "the Men of Letters had a similar incident like ours, except this angel just 'poofed' into the room, whereas we know the angel."

"How'd this _Hadraniel _dude get in? Thought this place was warded tight."

"I assume they found out what angel warding was after this. Probably up'd the power on that warding making it pretty much impossible to get in." replied Sam. "Okay, here we go."

Sam turned on the record player, both the boys listening intently.


End file.
